


Saarebas

by bearonthecouch



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Magic, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:02:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3095822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearonthecouch/pseuds/bearonthecouch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Saarebas." His dangerous thing. So many of the people who follow them see her as delicate. Weak. That's their mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saarebas

Bull hums to himself, popping the cork on a new bottle of Tevinter red. He pours it carefully into stylish glass flutes, setting them gently on the small table next to the bed. The door creaks open, and he grins at the beautiful elven woman slipping into his quarters. “Come,” he tells her. “Sit.” She joins him at the edge of the bed, sipping carefully at the wine he slips into her hand.

“What're you doing?” she asks suspiciously.

“I'm... setting the mood?” he asks hesitantly.

Eris laughs. The sound peals through the air, and makes the Bull straighten, inching closer to her. Anything to make her happy.

She sets down the wine glass and crawls into his lap, flipping around so that she's straddling him. She kisses his neck, then nuzzles it, like a particularly affectionate cat. “You don't have to set the mood,” she whispers, leaning into his ear. “I knew what I was coming up here for.”

Bull laughs too, a harsh chuckle that is deep and resonant. “Is that so?”

“You,” Eris says, pushing him down onto the bed, an action he does not protest even a little bit. “Are _extremely_ predictable.”

“And  _you_ walked right into my trap.” 

She rolls her eyes, still settled lightly atop his body. “Don't flatter -” She gasps, unable to complete the sentence as he rolls over, taking her with him. He lets her slip away just enough that he won't have to worry about crushing her, but he catches her arm as soon as that's no longer a danger.

“Saarebas,” he growls. His dangerous thing.

She stiffens at his commanding touch, murmuring something unintelligible into the pillows. Her slight movement sends a ripple of desperate desire surging through The Iron Bull's entire body.

He practically hums with need; he can feel his heart beating faster, can feel the heat of his blood thrumming through every muscle, with every breath. His eyes half close as he basks in the scent of her, he lets his finger gently trace a bead of sweat down her spine. He waits for her to squirm away from that tickling touch, but she doesn't. She allows him to explore the shape of her, with practiced stillness. Bull bites his tongue, and bows his head, almost in prayer, as he moves his hands over her skin.

He knows that many of the people that follow them see her as delicate, that's their mistake. Eris' lithe body is nearly as marked with scars as his. He sees her, naked and fearless, the remnants of burns and breaks and blood illuminated by the white light of the moon pouring in through the gaps in the stone. She shivers – Skyhold is cold. But he wraps her up in his warmth, holding her against his chest with one arm, as though she were a child. He can feel the slickness between her thighs as he teases her with purposeful fingers. She twists, trying to pull him closer, and he chuckles as he withdraws his touch. She punches ineffectually at the ropy muscles of his arm. He pulls her close again, twining his fingers through her silky dark hair, kissing the top of her head.

“You're mean,” she mutters.

“I know.”

She gasps, plunged into sudden shock as his fingers skip over the brand at her lower back. His blunted claws dig into that mark, deep enough to draw blood. Eris trembles, and he waits for her to protest, but she doesn't. It takes nearly all of his willpower to pull himself away from her, to restrain himself. He rolls over, and listens to her ragged breathing. His own core feels hollow and strained, there is an aching in his insides, like something inside of his stomach is punching him, furiously punishing him for being stupid enough to _not_ take what his body so desperately wants. He pushes himself up onto his elbow, and looks down at Eris. She too has pulled herself up to a half-sitting position, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. She glances at him, only for a few flickering heartbeats, but The Iron Bull swallows hard when he sees the fear in her eyes. 

“Eris?” he whispers cautiously. His voice rumbles through the small room. She does not pull away from him. Even now, she will not pull away. “What's wrong?”

She shakes her head, too quickly for him to believe the truth of the word she can barely force out. “Nothing,” she hisses. But she's crying.

He curses himself, for pushing too hard, too fast. For not  _making sure_ . “I'm sorry,” he whispers, into the back of her neck. He flicks his nail against the brand that had triggered her desperate reaction. She stiffens again. This time, he does not let her go. He holds her close, until she breaks against his body, sobbing in his arms. “What's wrong?” he repeats softly. 

“I don't know,” Eris chokes out.

“Yes you do.”

“I'm scared,” she whispers.

Bull says nothing for a long moment, just holding her, stroking her warm, smooth skin, feeling her fluttering heartbeat. He holds his breath as she slowly exhales. “Didn't I tell you from the start that I'd protect you?” She nods, resting her head against his chest. “What are you afraid of?”

“I don't - ”

“Don't tell me you don't know!” he hisses, tightening his hold on her arm. She winces, swearing she can see the bruises already forming. Bull pushes her away, she barely catches herself before she falls off the bed. “Talk to me, Eris,” the Qunari orders.

“It doesn't matter,” she ventures. “It was a long time ago.”

Bull snorts. “Since when does that matter?” he finally asks.

She takes a deep, shuddering breath, and glares at him. Then she pushes him away, or tries to, but he catches her wrists with gentle hands and smiles down at her. “My little Saarebas,” he whispers. “Stop  _fighting_ me.”

“Fuck you, Bull,” she snarls.

He chuckles, his love for her only growing. “Was trying,” he reminds her.

She shakes her head. “No, you weren't.”

He growls low in his chest. “Do you want me to?” he asks carefully. “ _Really_ want me to?” Eris says nothing. She doesn't have to. Her uncertainty is obvious in the way she holds herself at the edge of the bed. Tense. Barely breathing. “Talk to me,” he begs her. 

He  _wants_ her, so badly it hurts. But he needs her to want it too. 

He takes her hand, and he's conscious yet again of how small it feels in his. With his other hand, he gently lifts her chin, and kisses her, full on the lips. The heat of her fills him from the inside out. She breaks away from the kiss only when she's gasping for breath.

“I don't want to talk, Bull,” she cries. He nods.

He says nothing, instead pushing her down on the bed again. He straddles her, supporting his own weight so that he's barely touching her. He gently trails his fingers through the tangles of her dark hair, and with his other hand, he cups her breast, running his thumb over her nipple until it's hardened, and sensitive enough to make her squirm at the lightest pressure. He touches his forehead to hers, and flicks his tongue against her teeth, until she opens her mouth to breathe and he sticks his tongue inside, kissing her passionately as she writhes beneath him.

She reaches for his hardened cock, stroking it with searching fingers. He chuckles at her hesitation, shaking his huge horned head. “Come on,” he pleads. “At least  _try_ .”

He rolls over, picking her up as easily as he would a child, settling her on top of his muscled body. And then he shows her what he means, probing the intimate folds between her legs with smooth and practiced movements. She gasps as he thrusts his finger inside of her, probing so deeply it hurts. Then, just as roughly, he removes that finger, leaving his hand wrapped around her thigh as he grins at her.

“I hate you,” she growls, and he just laughs, kissing her gently as he picks her up, keeping her hands away from him. She kicks instead, landing a sharp blow to his stomach. He breaths out, schooling his features so as not to give her the satisfaction of knowing she'd hurt him, even briefly. “Put me down,” she squeals, kicking still.

Bull rolls onto his side, setting her down gently on the huge bed next to him. He's still laughing at her childlike tantrum, at least until she takes advantage of his distraction, and takes his cock into her mouth, licking and sucking, letting her tongue provide the warmth and friction the Bull so desperately craves. He moans and wraps one of his hands against the back of her head, pushing her closer to him as she swallows, her teeth nipping at his sensitive member as she brings him to climax. He shudders as his finishes, his whole body shaking as he holds Eris close, making her feel as though she's at the center of a personal earthquake. 

“ _Damn_ ,” he breathes, once the tremors have subsided. “I had no idea you'd be so  _good_ at that.”

“There's a lot you don't know about me,” she tells him, honestly.

Bull nods. “Yeah. I'm getting that feeling.”

He runs his thumb up her arm, over her shoulder, frowning at the... dissatisfaction she's practically radiating. She doesn't say anything, but he hardly needs her to. He's been doing this a long while, with all kinds of people. He turns her around, gently, so that he can look into her dark eyes. Inside of her, there is a raw and gaping emptiness, a fearless need. He can feel it, like a held breath. “Fuck me, Bull,” she begs him.

He rests his hand on her cheek, looking into her wide and frenzied eyes. “You're sure?”

She nods frantically, already squirming to try to put herself closer to him. He laughs, as he would at a playful puppy, but as he lays her down, she is anything but nervous. She accepts his touch with a certainty that he can't help but admire. His heart thunders in his chest as she sucks in a breath when he spreads her legs, tracing his blunted claw in mindless, lazy circles across the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh.

He fucks her slowly, gently, taking his time, feeling her every movement, the warmth of her breath on his skin, the way her moans reverberate through his body. Her heart thumps underneath his palm, pressing down, just above her breast. He holds her still and feels the sweetness of her desire as she lays open to him. As he fills her, she gasps and cries and tries to pull away, but every time he tries to stop she scratches at him and spits at him that he'd better not. She  _wants_ him, so much that she doesn't care if it hurts. Maybe she wants him  _because_ it hurts. He pushes deeper, encouraged by her whimpers and her frantic desperate grabs at any part of his body her scrabbling fingers can reach. She cries and struggles to kick him, fighting against the wild need that she can't express any other way.

And then, suddenly, Bull roars with pain, biting down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He licks at it, his head still ringing. Eris is shaking and gasping beneath him, her cry of pleasure mingled with his cursing. He slams his hand down next to her with enough force to shake the bed as he pulls out, still trying to get his head on straight.

Whatever blow she'd hit him with isn't physical. His  _brain_ hurts, sending pain firing through his body as effectively as if she'd hit him with lighting or fire. He wheezes and coughs, blinking away the tears forming in his eyes. And he grabs Eris' arm, pulling her close to him before she can scramble away. “What the fuck was that?” he asks, still gasping for breath. 

She stares at him, soaked with sweat, her chest rising and falling with each gulp of air she desperately pulls in. She can barely find the strength to open her eyes. He cradles her against his chest, the adrenaline instinct that told him to fight off an attack rapidly bleeding away when all he sees is her. “I dunno,” she murmurs, already falling asleep.

He doesn't believe her, of course, but he's in no mood to fight her now. Whatever it was, it was  _her_ . His saarebas. He plays with her hair, shifting her slightly with the bulk of his weight, so that her head rests just above his heart. “Just don't do it again,” he growls. 

She snorts, a little puff of cold-warm mist against his chest. “'K,” she agrees. Bull knows she'd agree to anything he said, right then, but he knows that's no sign of weakness.

He shakes his head, laughing softly, awed once more by her strength and her beauty, and the fact that she agrees to stay with him.

 


End file.
